


admission of forgiveness

by stephenssupreme



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Trans Male Character, Trans Will Graham, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26736568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephenssupreme/pseuds/stephenssupreme
Summary: will regrets his decision - he should have run away with hannibal-----fic takes place between season 2 and 3
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	admission of forgiveness

It had been a while since Will had seen Hannibal and surely he should have been grateful for that. Last time he saw the man he had carved a smile into his stomach leaving him there to bleed. Not to die, no. Death was never Hannibal's intention for Will. Just to bleed. Despite all that, Will still had an odd… Yearning for his attacker. He was hesitant to admit it but it was true: he was in love with the man. Unfortunately he wasn't quite able to pinpoint the exact moment he had fallen in love with the serial killer and god knows, he constantly doubted himself, blaming his love on manipulation or a clouded mind. Either way, the love was there and when one's love is taken away from you, heartbreak often follows through with vengeance.

Therapy was useless by this point and quite frankly, Will couldn't afford to fall for another psychiatrist - two was enough for a lifetime, though, Alana technically was never  _ his  _ psychiatrist so it hardly counted. Alas, he was stuck with his own thoughts, each cold evening in his quaint home growing more and more bitter by the day. He had even started to try writing a letter to Hannibal, no intention to send it of course, but simply a way to vent everything he wanted to say and more.

_ Dear Hannibal. _

_ It's been so long. I hate admitting it but I miss you for some reason. I miss having someone to talk to - someone who could understand my mind but also understand that he could joke with me. You were the closest I had ever gotten with anyone in my life and to lose that pains me beyond comprehension. I miss your voice. Your scent. Your gentle touch against my face when you try to get through to me. _

_ God, this sounds like a love letter. Well, I guess it is… In a way. We do what we do for love, after all. I'm sorry I didn't decide on you sooner, I should have. We could have run away together and I wouldn't be writing this stupid thing. I can't say I forgive you just yet but I'm close. I just hope you can forgive me eventually. _

_ I love you. _

_ Will Graham. _

  
  


As the pen dropped down against the table, rolling off to the side, hitting a box of fishing wire: Will let out a sigh. Was that really worth it? Did he feel any better after writing that? He really couldn't tell and honestly, all he did know was that he could feel a soaring headache starting to brew just above his eyes. Squeezing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and fore-finger, the disgraced agent leaned back in his chair, focusing on his breathing as much as he could to quell the pain before a migraine had the chance to settle in. No. This was useless. What was he staying up for anyway? Was he expecting Hannibal to waltz through the door as if life was a period piece romance, playing out on the big screen? No, it's not. Best to go to bed and hope that all of this was just a dream or even better: that he never woke up at all.

Sitting down on the side of his bed, he looked over his left shoulder, imagining that Hannibal was sat right beside him, gazing right back.

"Don't look at me like that. I already feel guilty enough." Stubbornly, Will turned away, casting that illusion from his mind as he changed into his night clothes, pausing just as he was about to put his top on. The slash to his stomach had healed now, leaving nothing more than a thin, trailing scar across his skin. Gently, Will slid his fingers down his torso, lingering as they touched the scar. Hannibal had cut him there purposely - he knew a wound like that wouldn't kill him - it was as if he was giving Will a second chance. Closing his eyes, Will let himself fall back against the mattress, hand still on his stomach, though in his mind, the hand no longer belonged to him, but to Hannibal instead. Just as his hand had been there that night but this time there was an absence of a knife.

"Hannibal…" The name slipped from Will's lips in a lonely whisper, filling the silence of the room. Biting his bottom lip, his hand moved further down his body, fingertips digging under the waistband of his pants, breath hitched as he debated what he was about to do. Every voice in his head was telling him this was wrong and that if he did this, there would be no taking it back - this was openly admitting that he loved the man. Then again, his heart and his gut told him that this was simply inevitable. His hand slipping between his legs proved all that needed to be proven, his pussy wet just from the mere thought of Hannibal touching him. With slick fingers, he ran across his thick clit, sighing out a shaky moan of sorts as he was incredibly sensitive and even a slight touch set him off.

With his middle finger he began rubbing circles against the wet bud, while his hips bucked up, needing and wanting more. He wanted to have Hannibal on top of him, the weight of him pressing down as their bare chests touched. Rolling his head to the side, he envisioned the man biting and sucking at his neck, marking him as his own little toy to fuck and play with. God, he wanted to be used by Hannibal but even more so, he yearned to be  _ wanted  _ by the man. 

"I'm yours." A verbal admission to an empty room, yet to Will there were two of them there. Hannibal's hand was now tracing the newly formed bruise on Will's neck and Will just knew the smug smile he would have had on his face while doing that.

It was intoxicating.

Quickly, Will pulled his hand away from himself, only to frantically take off his boxers, kicking them to the floor with haste. A momentary glance around and it gave him idea: he wanted to ride Hannibal, he wanted to be used but also finally have some control over the man. Sure, he wasn't here, but a pillow could suffice. Climbing onto the bed, the horny brat of a man grabbed a pillow and positioned himself to straddle over it, hands holding it in place as he began to fuck himself against it. With every thrust, his hard clit thobbed more, the pillow beneath him already getting damp. Falling further into the fantasy, Will's right hand slid off the pillow and onto the bed in front of him, his hand splayed as if it were placed just over Hannibal's throat. Of course, he couldn't be sure but he assumed choking would be something Dr Lecter would be into and having that air of dominance over this man was tipping Will over the edge. Sweat was glistening across his body by now, his hair somehow messier than it usually looked, jostled mainly all over onto one side. If this instance were to be real, Hannibal could have had his hands all over Will… Fingers wading through the hair on his chest, lingering at scars, indiscriminate as to whether he was the ones to cause them or not. He could feel Hannibal grabbing his ass, forcing him to get fucked rougher, a small reminder that Hannibal was always in control deep down, all he was doing was letting Will get a taste of dominance now and then.

As Will looked down at his bed, he saw Hannibal led there, gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes and a pleased smirk tugging at his lips. As much as he should have hated him… He just couldn't.

  
  


"I forgive you--" 

Not having admitted that seemed to be what was holding Will back, his body jolting upright as he let out a a trembling moan, his nails digging into the sheets and pillows below him. He tried to get up off his makeshift fuck toy but as he did, another wave of euphoria buzzed through him, his clit only just grazing the fabric as he moved. He let himself fall onto the bed, lazily spread out on his back, an arm thrown over his face in shame. He was a fucking mess.

As the high slowly faded, Will squeezed his eyelids shut in an attempt to hold back his tears but it was a futile effort as a few managed to escape, trickling down his temple as he lay there. Did he feel ashamed and wrong about having done that? Or was it the fact he had lost his chance to run away with Hannibal and any kind of reunion was unlikely? He didn't quite know. 


End file.
